


Snapshots of Time and Space

by nb_vint



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2018-11-02 00:12:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nb_vint/pseuds/nb_vint
Summary: A collection of short prompts that will be updated weekly.





	1. French Fries

**Author's Note:**

> Gray and I are trying to hold ourselves accountable for writing a good deal this summer, so this collection of short prompts will hopefully make that a reality.
> 
> Not edited, and the tags will be updated as I post the prompts.
> 
> The first prompt was Gray just telling my to write something angsty about french fries, and no surprise, I chose Gabriel and Jack. Not actually angsty, but there is mention of french fries.

Crying over a carton of french fries was never something Jack foretold as a regular occurrence in his old age. Graying hair and failing vision, sure, but not sentimentality over greasy potatoes. As he was prone to doing with most every inconvenience, he traced it back to Gabriel Reyes. King of inconveniencing Jack, coming up with much better mission guidelines, and being way too considerate when choosing first date locations.

When Jack was still Jack, and Gabe had not yet considered donning a Halloween mask to scare children and international peace organizations alike, they had once thought that falling in love was a good idea. Too many days spent in the close quarters of SEP training, a gaze not quick enough to hide the truth of it, and they had ended up at a Michelin Five restaurant in the streets of Paris. Jack, dolled up in a nice suit, trying not to be too obvious in his lack of etiquette, while Gabriel always seemed to fit into whatever situation he was in. Perks of being black ops for so long, maybe, more likely just one of the many talents that he always seemed to have. 

Jack was so uncomfortable. The rural roots of his life pre army meant that silverware and the proper use of cloth napkins was never high on his priority of teachings. His quickly deteriorating ability to hold a conversation with Gabe, never mind his perfectly accented French with the waiter, meant that his nerves were too quick to show themselves. He'd always found irony in his cool calm collected ability to talk circles around bureaucrats, and yet a fancy restaurant and a handsome Gabriel proved too much. 

"You okay there Jackie?" Damn Gabriel and his trained eye. Was it Jack's shifting gaze and nervous inability to stop messing with his forks that gave him away? 

"Not used to such fancy digs, probably. Not many Michelin fives hanging around Indiana, you know?" Gabriel's careful consideration of Jack's response was unwarranted in relaxed company, but that also had to do with Jack's lack of the relaxed part. 

"I kind of fucked this up, didn't I?" The rueful tilt of Gabriel's head and slight grin directed somewhere over Jack's right shoulder told enough of its own story. 

"What, no! Of course not, this is really nice. I think the waiter is laughing at me though." Could never tell with the French, no matter how immersive his diplomatic training. 

"Alright, we just got here and I doubt they're paying too much attention to us anyway, no one to stop us from going out the back door." 

The glasses filled with water (never mind the carefully placed crystalline decanters the water came from) wasn't enough to warrant a stealthy escape, but if this was a game Gabriel wanted to play, so be it. Grabbing the cloth napkins placed on their laps and putting them back in their original positions over the starting plates (appetizer plates? Who the fuck knew, certainly not Jack), they quickly hightailed it out of the restaurant. Laughing and gasping half way down the street, Gabe and Jack leaned against each other in a fit of mirth. 

"You sure know how to treat a guy, this is the best time I've had in too long." 

Gabe's ability to put his heart into his smile was what had given him away in the first place, and the use of it now was too good to ignore. Leaning up quickly, Jack's hitched breath before putting his lips to Gabriel's gave him time enough to see that heart travel to his eyes. Cliched, maybe, but Jack had given up a long time ago in thinking that what he felt for Gabriel was anything less than worth being corny. 

Fireworks, butterflies, everything Jack had imagined gave way to gentle parting and their quiet contemplation as they considered the never ending, what next? 

"I think I can still salvage dinner. How about in France we do as the French do?" 

"Escargot?" 

"I was thinking french fries."


	2. Formal Attire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So technically this prompt isn't "due" until Wednesday, but I finished it pretty quick so here ya go. 
> 
> The prompt was, "Prompt: Formal wear. Is this an infiltration of a party? Do they have to meet with higher-ups? Is it a funeral? Who Knows"
> 
> Of course I had to make it sad.

A bottle of whiskey closer to empty than full by his side, McCree took a second to fix the tie he’d struggled with over the past hour. A final goodbye to the dignity afforded those taught by their fathers, he’d finally just found a how-to video. Staring at his reflection in a cheap motel mirror was about as fancy as he could afford after cutting ties with Blackwatch and all the job security it’d given him. Today was important though, and digging into those last reserves he’d been saving for a rainy day was the least he could do.

It was the first anniversary of the “internal struggle” at the Swiss headquarters of Overwatch.

A year since Gabriel Reyes had died.

Grabbing the jacket off the mattress which had seen better days, McCree shrugged it on with the kind of care that only a person not comfortable in their get-up could muster. He had one destination in mind today, and beyond that, well. He’d figure that out eventually.

Being state side was a novel experience in and of itself after his time spent as second to Gabe.   
Actually thinking about the fact that he could be considered cultured and well-traveled at this point in his life was enough to make him smile. Jesse McCree, a man of the world.

He had more than one thing to thank Gabriel Reyes for, that was for sure. But gratitude would come after a final conversation, too many loose ends that’d never had time to figure themselves out after the chaos of a dissolved and illegal Overwatch.

One of those had been an inability to face what’d happened in his absence, and an empty seat at the funerals of his commanding officers. Today was meant to make amends for that.

He’d even gotten all gussied up for the occasion, and if Gabe couldn’t at least be thankful for that, well then this would be a short conversation. Stepping through the gates of Arlington cemetery, it wasn’t too hard to spot the fresh flowers at the base of one of its most famous inhabitants.

“Hey boss, I, uh,” Jesse stops short, at a loss for words.

“For once in your life,” he can hear Gabe say.

He clears his throat and begins again. “I don’t know if you’re listening, but goddamn does it feel nice to talk to you again. I miss you, you fucking asshole.” A dry chuckle aimed at the sky, used to cover any hitches in speech. Another second to gather his thoughts.

“You told me once that Blackwatch could be a family where Deadlock failed to be and I’m so angry at you for that.”

He loosens his tie and runs a hand through hair that was never quite regulation length. “Today was supposed to be about saying goodbye, getting some closure, but I don’t think we’ll ever get that, will we?”

Open ended questions aimed at some dirt didn’t feel like the kind of goodbye he’d actually aimed for, but here he was, talking to old ghosts. McCree was a straight shooter through and through, and the amount of guilt left over from walking away before things got messy (see, messier) was something he’d carry for the rest of his days. He’d gotten his closure with Overwatch, with the rest of his team that he’d said goodbye to and not had to bury, but there was never that kind of peace with the man he’d owed the most to.

The struggle of making right with that was a matter for another day, however. He’d come and said what he could. From here it was a matter of carrying this burden and finding something to occupy the rest of his time. Mostly just getting out of the suit that Gabe would’ve laughed himself silly over if he’d seen Jesse in it, and maybe drinking another glass in his name.

Turning back towards the gates of Arlington, McCree reckoned that his exhaustion was more than just a lack of sleep. The kind of bone weary fatigue that only came from having lived too much life. If a shadow crept by at the edge of his vision, or a trail of smoke seemed to take form for a span of a breath, well then that was just another symptom of being left behind.


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking longer than a week, life is an asshole sometimes.
> 
> The prompt for this one is "What makes a family?"  
> Gray was expecting something sad I think, but jokes on you, I can do happy. Maybe.

If McCree knew that in a few years’ time he would be having a tea party with the deadliest sniper in the world and her daughter, he would’ve had a much different understanding of what being in Blackwatch would be about. Not that he was complaining. This would do fine.

Family was as arbitrary a word as McCree knew. Deadlock had been kin to him since he was old enough to understand that not everyone’s family stuck around or fit the mold of the cookie cutter American dream. No mom to cook apple pie, or father to teach him the ropes. Just him and peacekeeper against the world.

It was melodramatic when put like that, sure, but McCree had learned from a young age that putting trust in others either ended in disappointment or death.

Well, until Blackwatch that is.

Grabbing hold of the dainty tea cup, never mind the fact that it looked straight up ridiculous in his calloused hands, he stuck his pinky out for the sake of making Fareeha laugh. This was something worth protecting right here, and goddamn if he didn’t thank whatever entity decided he was worth the second chance at life.

Gabriel Reyes would’ve put his two cents at that, he was sure.

“McCree, please pass the sugar.”

“It’d be my damn pleasure, Ma’am.”

“Jesse, language.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Ana Amari was one of those people that seemed to take up two roles in his life, straddling the line in a way that gave McCree whiplash more often than not. Mother, role model, the one other person that gave meaning to hero worship for him next to the boss man. In the same breath and for fear of repeating himself, deadliest sniper the world had yet seen. If she could juggle those two, who was McCree to say that he wouldn’t one day have something resembling this.

This; Fareeha passing him another sugar cube to in turn give to Captain Amari. Her, accepting it with a regal thank you, despite the fact that he knew that was her fourth sugar cube.

Her smile when Fareeha gives her a knowing look. The captain shooting him a wink when Fareeha goes back to arranging her silverware just right. This was more than apple pie and knowing the ropes, this was a family he could live and die by.

“If you keep staring off into space, your tea’s going to get cold Jesse.”

“With an eye like that little lady, you might give your mom a run for her money.”

A disapproving glance from the captain, but McCree knew that growing up around guns and gear only gave the itch to try it for yourself. Probably also had to do with the way Fareeha would sit pensive whenever the captain had a word of advice or easily given praise when McCree hit another target. That look was too pointed, too hungry to not lead to one place.

Either way, McCree knew he’d be by her side whatever path she chose. That was what family was supposed to do, stick around when the going got tough.

The image of Gabriel Reyes at the door of their elaborate tea party might’ve seemed out of place for anyone who hadn’t seen Fareeha paint the man’s nails, but for McCree it was just another day at Overwatch headquarters.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but McCree is needed.” One last look at the setup that he’d painstakingly put together with Fareeha’s careful instruction, McCree grabbed his hat and headed towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then this family falls apart too and McCree doesn't know what trust is anymore LOL


	4. King Midas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit late too, but I'm just going to pretend I posted at the right time.
> 
> The prompt was King Midas, and you can blame Gray for how it played itself out.
> 
> As always, Reaper76 is my go-to for the Not Happy prompts.

A golden throne for a man of gold, Jack stood gazing at the casket before him in the type of silence that could only be found in the presence of death.

For all the years they'd spent in each other’s company, fueled by the kind of quiet contemplation that was natural to those eternal, it was the lack of possibility that was getting to him the most. No ability to turn and give voice to the first thought on his mind. No chance to say what had yet to be said. Another millennia to spend alone and agonize over the possibilities that could have been. A passive understanding, debilitatingly lonely nonetheless.

As it were, caskets were for mortals, not for bodies that didn't hold form when there was no consciousness to hold it.

Jack had been the golden boy of gods, a joke among those who were brave enough to chance a dig at him. All he touched to gold, a legend among humans too caught up in their own greed to understand the torture of it. Metaphorical in some ways, luck and good fortune to those who were inherently lucky, literal for those who had lost favor with gods.

Gabriel was a god. He was never supposed to lose. Another fault of Jack, too lucky to understand his own failings.

A casket for company, the golden sheen a product of Jack's lament and inability to rationalize a suspended living while never again being able to touch his partner, lover, God.

"Are you willing to risk it?"

"Is it worth it?"

"Are you feeling lucky, Jackie?"

Gabriel, god of death and new beginnings, had taken a chance on a god of fortune and lost. Gold in the arms of his lover, partner, turned to dust that only served to feed the cosmos around them.

Jack had wept as Gabriel’s skin, so pliable in his hands, slowly gave way to the coldness, hardness, which would haunt him forever. As Jack wailed, Gabriel’s golden body fell from his arms and shattered, leaving trails of light and dust that were beautiful. Jack loathed it.

He was not lucky. He had risked it all and lost.

“What is a god of death to the sanctum he presides over. What is a god of new beginnings to a shattered form.”

A practiced eulogy for the benefit of their peers in eternity, a practice stolen from the mortals that worshipped them and knew that death was inevitable.

“Lighten up golden boy,” he thinks he hears whisper to him in the darkness of the void. No new trails of light, a lonely existence for the god who dared to hold his lover and broke him to pieces. Jack clasps his hands together in final prayer to the one he lost and prays for forgiveness. For redemption.

The tendrils of light suffuse his clasped hands and remind him of that pliable skin turned cold. At the point of contact winks the sheen he so hates and crawls steadily up his arms, his torso, up to the curve of his smile as it’s preserved for eternity.

Tipped by the void around him, Jack’s golden body falls, and shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always like leaving things at least slightly up to interpretation, and the void was a good medium for that.


	5. The World Catches Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So uh, obviously I never got around to making this a regular thing. 
> 
> To be transparent, its been awhile since I've written overwatch fic, and there were a lot of WIPs gathering dust in my files that I kind of felt bad for. This one is one of the very first things I wrote for this game, and was going to be my magnum opus of fics, but that also never became a thing. I didn't want it to die in a quiet corner by itself, so here it is in its unedited and very messy glory. I repeat, some of my earliest writing, and it shows lmfao

By all accounts, Jack had assumed that once enough time had passed, the rose colored glasses of youth would turn to dust and everything that had once seemed endearing would turn into the kind of habits that broke backs and ended forever loves. One too many examples of erosion and decay in the mouths of partners and friends, happy homes broken down to bare bones for the sake of the new and the fresh. Jack had been prepared for this from the beginning, expecting an inevitability that seemed hard pressed in every interaction with those who he loved.

He had stopped waiting for the inevitable somewhere around the two decade mark.

Out here staring at the stars above them, Jack felt the sort of nostalgia that liked to show itself when age started catching up to you. The kind of wistful hello to an old friend that memory made out of your past self. Not to say that Jack wouldn’t have had a few words to say to his younger self, most of them not so kind, but it had all turned out well in the end. And that counted for something when you were counting your last days.

Sitting on the porch of their house, there was a moment in time when Jack wouldn’t have imagined this future for himself. Forced into a lie by the world around him, he never got past the point of realizing his attraction to his designated partner because anything beyond that was self-mutilation. If he thought to imagine a life with Gabriel, his sometimes sparring partner when SEP injections weren’t blending his body into a fine mess, it was signing his death. He was too young, too scared to see what life could offer him, what it would eventually turn into. All he could see was the battered bodies of the boys back home who had stared a second too long at the men around them.

Remembering the night where he finally said fuck it, death is worth his love, was equal parts pain and comfort.

It was a night much like this. Lacking the white noise of crashing waves and a bit less humid than the norm of Florida, that night was similar in Jack’s contemplation and Gabriel’s presence. Jack had made a habit of going out to watch the stars, make himself feel small when the burden of his reality became too much to bear. He couldn’t remember when Gabriel had also become a staple to those nights, all he knew was that eventually, Gabriel was as important to calming Jack’s thoughts as the vast universe above him was. The stars made him feel small, Gabriel made him infinite.

Falling in love was just the simple realization of that, one moment to the next of blind distance that turned into a kaleidoscope of emotion and closeness. Jack didn’t know when he had stopped watching the stars. One day, when he found himself expecting to make shapes out of constellations, he found himself staring at Gabriel’s profile instead.

There they were, the last two men on Earth as far as Jack could tell, pretending to look at the sky when in reality they only saw each other.

By that point, he didn’t realize that Gabriel’s own lack of subtlety when turning to stare was a form of validation and return. All Jack saw was a potential rejection, or a confirmation of his own worst fears. The closet was deep and Jack was so scared. Realizing his love just served to push him further into his own denials, until all he could do was choke on the tears that were too much a surrender for him to shoulder.

Gabriel put the stars to shame and Jack hadn’t been able to tell him. It made him sad now, thinking on it as he turned to a more wizened Gabriel, the years sitting heavy but well on his features. Reaching over to run a gentle hand over that profile that had captivated him so readily was now the kind of casual intimacy that his younger self would’ve cried over. Gabriel’s cheek fit so easy in the palm of his hand, and Jack’s ability to see Gabriel’s heart in his eyes as he turned to catch his glance was a realization of every dream that young soldier had never hoped to actualize.

This was his life now. Full of love and unapologetic adoration. Jack would’ve paid money to see the look on his young self’s face if he had been able to describe their eventual reality.

The life he and Gabriel had made for themselves had been a good one. That assertion was a balm to whatever regrets he might still harbor, or whatever words he had thought to say but never had. Thinking back to the day where an open newspaper made self-reflection necessary was still one that made his breath quicken and the grip on his arm rests just a bit tighter. Not tight enough to break, he had made peace with the strength SEP gifted him years back.

Olympia Shaw was a household name as far as anyone that paid attention to the news was concerned. He was a former commander of the most powerful organization in the world, which made him concerned by proxy. Always on the forefront of any news concerning Overwatch or its members, it was no surprise that her name was stamped to the byline of the article, “Super Soldiers Reaching Their Ends; The Truth of the United States’ SEP.”

Jack had heard of the life flashing before your eyes moment from too many people, it came with being someone so close to the hand of death. When he read that article, it’d felt much like those descriptions, except for the fact that it wasn’t himself he saw, it was Gabriel. Gabriel, who had also had that poison injected into his body, who had it running through his veins at this very moment, having it eat him from the inside out.

Jack could not live without him, but beyond that, the thought that the world would be without Gabe in it was too much to bear. How could there be a world without Gabriel in it? This went beyond the fact that Jack would bleed at his feet if it meant his happiness, this was down to the fact that Gabriel had saved the world one time too many to not be absolutely necessary. Jack had no issue with his own ability to be replaced, it had been one of the first things he dealt with when he tackled his demons, but Gabriel was a world saver, an Atlas that had taken the entire planet onto his shoulders with barely a thought. They needed him.

Of course, the moment Gabriel had heard his line of thought, he had put in his resignation, packed up all their belongings, and moved them to the Old People capital of the world. Florida.

“Nothing is irreplaceable Jack. The world will move on, maybe on to war, maybe on to peace, but that is out of our hands now. We did what we could. My last days can be spent drinking shitty beer and catching you staring at my ass.”

Jack would have been more suspicious of Gabriel’s easy acceptance if he hadn’t spent more than one night holding Gabriel close as he worked through his own demons. They would get through it, they would die, but at least they would do it together. It was a trend of their lives, do the tough thing, but never do it alone. Another thing to take to his grave.

Gabriel had once thought to make constellations of the freckles on Jack’s cheeks, but they hadn’t been able to stop kissing long enough for the lines to connect. Every drag of the marker had led to an hour’s delay as they made use of the flimsy cots given to them by the government. Why the higher ups ever thought that those beds could support the bulk of one super soldier, let alone two, was still a question Jack asked himself. More often than not, the constellations on Jack’s cheek smudged into formless patterns by the time the two of them moved their love to the floor. 

Those days had always seemed like the easy times, the ones without decisions that affected the world. Just four walls, occasional needles in the crooks of their elbows, and one too many nights learning the plains of each others’ bodies. 

It was good to see that their youthful explorations and passion for one another was something that continued on. Jack had a ring on his finger now, more than a few scars that his younger self would have gawked at, but the pit in his stomach that opened up into a butterfly garden every time he caught Gabriel’s eye was the sort of thing that felt new every time it happened. He was so in love, even a good forty years after that first tentative night of fingers interlocked and shy grins shared. 

If he was being honest, the days of Blackwatch and Overwatch had worked to dissolve all that love into a puddle of bitterness and discontent. Jack took responsibility for all of it, no matter how much Gabriel was a stickler for equal shares. Jack was the one who accepted a promotion he had no right to. He knew what kind of prejudice was the foundation of the choice that passed over the better man, and he had worked to reinforce that system with a simple, “I accept.”

He had spent a lifetime correcting that mistake, and he was proud of what Gabriel and he had accomplished from the moment he had fell to his knees in front of his husband and friend. A united Overwatch and Blackwatch, one which worked to undo the tendrils of hatred the UN had spread throughout the world with its shady dealings and lack of transparency.

Talking mouths, faceless heads, the UN was good at suggesting things that sounded like orders. Listen to your superiors, respect your elders, make your father proud. The drunken reveries of a man far removed from that point in his life, Jack rubbed his hands against the fabric of his pants and reached for the bottle of whiskey. The nostalgia of old age had a way of fucking up nice nights. Gabriel's steady breathing and quiet contemplation beside him helped to draw him back to the present, one where the demons were friendlier and Jack had done the right things.

Gabriel reached out a hand to stop his hand from fidgeting against the fabric and with the other brought a cigar to his lips. A remnant from his time with Jesse. Jack's quiet remark, "Those things will kill you." The irony laden look they shared started a fit of laughter that dissolved into teary gazes and soft grips of hands.


End file.
